Cover Girl
by Sparkle Dreamer
Summary: Written In the pov from a child prodigy. Really makes you think about what lies beneath the surface. Am I the only one that ever wondered what really goes on?


Disclaimer_ Digimon is not mine. Whoever thinks that is is either delusional or grew up in a cave. Hopefully none of you thought I owned digimon, rite?  
  
A/N- This lil fic is written in the POV of a child prodigy. I would have mad it from Ken Ichijouji's pov, when he was still that super genius person, but when I tried to write it, I realized I had no Idea how guys think!!! So I made it A girl version. Hate me if you want to.   
  
I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I'm not.  
  
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Hi. My name is Arielle Muroski. I know that you've probably seen me on TV, Or watched an interview, or read about me in the papers, or seen that article in no-one-knows-how-many magazines about that 'Perfect fourteen year old child prodigy,' or something like that.  
  
It all started when I saw Sam Ichijouji On TV one day when I was two. I asked my mom who he was and she said that he was one of the most amazing kids ever, except for me. So I thought that I had to be great at everything just like him. For a long time I looked up to him. I started doing everything he did and more. Soccer, Piano, Singing, Ice skating, Swimming, Academics, Ballet, Gymnastics, basketball, and a lot more. Most of the stuff was girlie stuff that he never did, and I thought that I'd never be recognized for that stuff.   
  
But one day I turned on the TV and saw that there was an accident and he had died. I went to the funeral. I saw his family there in the front and I felt so sorry for them. But the person I felt sorry for the most was that little boy up there. He looked about my age, maybe a year or two older, I couldn't really tell, I was only three.   
  
Now, 11 years later, I see him all the time on TV, played him once in soccer, lost to him in freestyle swimming, and was even asked once if we were going out! But see, I know how the world looks at us. At me. The perfect kids that every parent dreams of having and that every child dreams of being. But I'm not that Cover Girl you see. Not just that anyways.   
  
Everyone thinks that I'm good at everything. And sure, I am depending on who you compare me to. Really, I've never been good at anything.   
  
I know what you're thinking. 'Yeah right. Not good at anything, what is this child thinking? She's played the piano on national television, competed in international figure skating, Was the youngest person to ever be invited to the New York Ballet, blah, blah, blah.'  
  
Well, My piano teacher is ALWAYS yelling at me about how I should pay more attention to dynamics and that I have horrible technique and my playing isn't strong enough. My coach in figure skating is always telling me to stay on the right edges, try to go both up and across on my jumps, hold the spins longer and faster, and stop trying to rush from jump to jump in my program. With competing, She's always disappointed in me. I try to please her, I really do. Bu the thing is, When I make it to the regionals, then I have to go to the sectionals. And then If I do good there then there's the nationals. After that there are international competitions. It just never ends and I guess the most she could ask for up till now was Junior Olympics. I placed first there, but now I'm old enough to go to the Olympics, and I wasn't good enough.  
  
Ballet? I'm not flexible enough, don't pay enough attention to my arms, look like a child when I perform, need more extension, and the list goes on and on.   
  
Swimming. I lost to Ken Ichijouji and for my swimming coach, that's enough to make him drag me there every morning from three to twelve for a week until other people started complaining that I wasn't showing up for the myriads of things I was supposed to do.  
  
Everyone thinks that I'm like, the absolute best and that nobody yells at me because there's nothing to yell about. They are so wrong. I'm being yelled at more than they could ever imagine. Not one of my teachers or coaches is proud of me. I always have to be better. Work harder. Practice more. I'm just not good enough for them.   
  
Once, when I was eight, I took the AP calculus test. Everyone expected me to pass. I failed. It was, so far, the most disappointing thing that had ever happened in my entire life. I cried for hours and hours after I got that letter. I felt that I let everyone down. I was so disappointed in myself. I thought I just wasn't good enough and was a total and complete failure. Some nights I cried so hard I couldn't breathe right.   
  
Then I got mad at myself and studied every extra second I had. I stayed up and hour later and woke up and hour earlier than I usually did and studied out of countless textbooks. When I was ten I took the test again. This time I passed. Not that that's necessarily a good thing. It wasn't as great as I thought it would be.  
  
I turned into that fairy tale success story. But it wasn't all that. All my other teachers were mad at me because while I was studying for that I wasn't improving as rapidly as I had before. I had to balance out my schedule. Well, I tried, but to tell the truth, I still haven't gotten the hang of it. I'm always forgetting that I have a concert or performance or practice or something like that. What would I do if planners were never invented? Not that I usually write things down anyways.  
  
You know, I really just want to be a kid. talk the way I am now. Like a normal, average person. Listen to rock music in my headphones (which I actually started doing, but my piano teacher said that it's trash with no rhythm, no melody, and no meaning. Now I know not to listen to it while she's around. My gymnastics coach doesn't seem to mind though.)  
  
I used to want to be perfect. For everyone. Now I think that it's impossible. Literally impossible. If I get better than my teacher, they send me to another teacher. When I get my undergraduate degree this year, they'll want a graduate degree. When I get the graduate degree, they'll want me to double major. When I make it to the Olympics, Second place isn't good enough. And neither is three consecutive golds.   
  
Sometimes I just get so mad a them! I mean, I worked so hard for what I've accomplished already, and They're just never satisfied! Always try harder, be better, work longer. There's something new every day! I'm glad that they want me to succeed, but I just don't think that I have what it takes. Maybe I should just quit before I get in to deep? You know, I'm starting to get jealous of Sam Ichijouji...


End file.
